The Intern
by The Assassin's Pen
Summary: Adam Jensen is one of the only surviving assets left after Sarif's attack. He has the best medical care in the world but not much else. Not even David or Malik can come and see him, it's simply too dangerous. That's when Nora, an intern with Sarif industries is asked to take a special interest in helping Adam recover. Not an OCxCharacter. Missing scene post operation pre gameplay.
1. The Call

I had this idea while watching the opening credits for the millionth time. Out of everything that changes Adam's facial hair and hair style never do. This might seem little, but things like that can be huge grounders when everything else is in upheaval. So I started thinking about what would happen if an intern not responsible for his augmentation progress or physical healing was assigned to his case. Suddenly, Nora. Now, I haven't finished the game yet, I only just got back to Detroit from China, so please no spoilers in any comments. Thanks!

* * *

Nora clutched her pocket secretary nervously, chewing on her lip as she glanced around the office. It was dim, secluded, and cluttered in a way that suggested a state of emergency frozen in time. The door clicked suddenly open and a very tired-looking woman slipped inside, giving Nora the shadow of a smile as she sat down across from her.

A young medical student interested since she was ten with animatronics, Nora was quite simply cut out for the augmentation business. Her teenage years had been spent in LIMB clinic waiting rooms watching patients and surgery prep as long as she could before they were ushered through the doors. Though she held no animosity towards those who got augmented for show or pleasure, her real fascination lay with those whose lives could be healed by the weaving of wire with DNA. Several times she'd witnessed a patient go in limping, supporting himself on crutches, and return a few weeks later walking confidently on his new leg. She'd watched the metal capture and refract the lights of the LIMB clinic and felt simultaneously proud and relieved beyond measure, as though she was the augmented person and the surgeon all at once.

Two years ago she'd applied for the beginnings of a complex internship with Sarif Industries, and for the past sixteen months she'd been working in their lowest ranks, studying specs and experiments and wiring until her eyes ached with screen strain.

As huge as Sarif was, her internship was unpaid so she spent the hours she wasn't crashing with sleep deprivation at her drugstore job. Busy though her life was, she got meals through Sarif, her job paid for her tiny apartment, and she had enough time to call her mom once a week during her commute. The animatronics, the chance at a job following the completion of her internship, and the ultimate promise of getting to work with actual augmentation patients fueled her in a way the hypostims never did.

Then the attack happened. She'd heard about it on the news, a plunging of guilt settling in her gut like a clot. She was supposed to be at the factory helping with the menial tasks while the higher-ups were preparing Dr. Reed for transport. The only reason she wasn't—the only reason she hadn't died in the attack with everyone else was because she had overslept.

A glitch in the power grid by her apartment threw off her clock and by the time it hummed back online she was three hours late. She'd tripped over herself getting ready, trying desperately to get her sobs under control, sure beyond anything that she was going to lose all chances at actual work with Sarif. Her dreams were dissolving in a mist before her as she sprinted down the dingy stairs, but before she could punch in the code to exit the building the dusty television to the right flickered on with an emergency broadcast. Images of explosions flared fever-bright behind a red banner that declared Sarif under attack.

She'd run to the scene against all better judgment, only the black-clad arm of a SWAT officer slamming across her chest as she sprinted up stopping her. His mechanical fingers glistened back orange light as they wrapped firmly around her arm. "You can't go in there miss, the entire facility's been compromised."

Standing mouth agape, silent tears went down her cheeks and she gasped what breath she could, shaking her head and covering her mouth with both hands as the officer gentled his grip and guided her back towards and ambulance busy with no-one since no-one had survived. They treated her for shock and she'd been holed up in her apartment as much as she could since, nervously consuming every detail of news she found until very late on a night three weeks later her phone had rung.

She startled, sitting up groggily and snapping on her lamp, fumbling for the comm device. "Hello?"

"Miss Caria?"

"Yes," she said, clearing her throat and pulling the thin screen from her ear long enough to glance at the ID. It was blank. "Who's calling?"

"This is Dr. Vera, with Sarif Industries. I understand you were an intern working with their manufacturing and development branches before the attack, but it says in your file that the culmination of your education was to be three months with patients undergoing procedure, is that correct?"

Nora felt her chest seize up and her teeth clicked together once before she swallowed and finally got the words out. "I-yes that is correct. I was under the impression that my internship was canceled—that no-one…" she choked on the words, realizing for the first time that she still hadn't dealt with anything that had happened. She'd made friends with some of the scientists, and the news reports proclaimed everyone dead except for two traumatized workers and one of the guards. One had died in surgery and the other had fallen off the grid. She had no idea who was left, other than David Sarif himself who'd come forward with a statement only a few days ago.

"These are extenuating circumstances miss Caria," Vera said gently, though her voice was firm enough to pull focus. "We've found ourselves in dire need of help, staff-wise and you have proven yourself unceasingly loyal. Your screenings when we brought you onto our internship were incredibly high for discretion and honesty, and that's what we need right now. I am sending an address to your Sarif pocket secretary. Please meet me there immediately. Bring nothing with you, and be sure to lock your apartment down, you will not be returning to it anytime soon."

The line disconnected and Nora sat stunned for several fluttering heartbeats before she sprung out of bed and pulled a t-shirt and black slacks on. She shrugged on a black coat and hopped into her boots, reaching for her Sarif access card before hesitating. She wasn't sure she should look like she was heading for Sarif at all. Last second she grabbed it and her ID and slipped them into a hidden pocket, just in case.

"Miss Caria, thank you for coming in so late." Dr. Vera sat back in her chair, pressing a few buttons on her keyboard before leaning on her desk like it was the only thing reminding her how to stay upright. "I apologize for the cryptic nature of the message but we've only recently discovered the information leak that allowed the attack in the first place and it's very important that our patient's location not be discovered. We're not preparing a death notice since David does hope he can return to his post eventually, but for now it is best that those who attacked have no idea there may yet be a survivor."

Nora swallowed, forcing herself to put the pocket secretary in her lap and stop clenching on it before she broke the screen. "Can I ask what exactly I'm here for?" she said.

Vera's lips pressed together and her brow furrowed, as though unsure of how to deliver the information. She sighed. "Nora, what I'm going to ask you to do is placing one of the most important surviving assets of this company in your hands." She hesitated, and Nora felt her stomach knot itself up further. Vera rubbed her eyes and then got wearily up, motioning Nora to follow. "It'll be easier to show you."

Doctor Vera led her into the hall and then down a corridor, passing empty surgical suites and supply rooms. When she stopped it was in front of an intensive observation ward, its one occupant mostly obscured by the two guards posted by the door. Vera motioned for Nora to stand next to her in front of the bullet-proof glass, and she obeyed, peering in at the subject lying on the bed.

She covered her mouth to keep her composure. Never had she seen such extensive augmentation done, and only his upper-half was visible. Most of him was obscured by white bandages, and an oxygen mask was one of a medusa of wires tangled around what was left of his living flesh. An IV split the skin near his throat, invading damaged arteries. Both arms were gone, replaced by the skeletal metal and hydraulic tissue of Sarif prosthetics.

"Do you recognize him?" Vera asked gently, drawing Nora out of her shock. She shook her head. "His name is Adam Jensen. He probably signed some of your release papers near the end of your screening to become an intern—he's David's head of security and he is one of two left alive." She looked into the room, her brow creasing. "Barely. In the last few weeks Sarif stabilized and then augmented him in more ways than I'm authorized to tell you, and tonight he finally made forty-eight hours without some kind of cardiac distress or respiratory arrest."

Nora swallowed, crossing her arms, watching the pull of muscles in Adam's neck as he worked to breathe. "Doctor, what is it exactly you want me to do?" she asked, catching Vera's eyes.

Vera sighed. "Per protocol he's no longer priority in this location. The emergency personnel that we've had monitoring him are no longer needed, and with everything that's happened they are obligated to go elsewhere. From here on out he's going to receive clinical watch, the best care Sarif can buy and constant physically theraputical monitoring until he's ready to go home. All that and a twenty-four-seven armed guard and cloak on his location. There isn't even much left to do with his augments."

She glanced down, folding her arms. "But he will be alone." She looked up. "Adam is more than David's head of security, more than just a witness we need alive. He's one of David's best friends and he is the first human in augmentation history to undergo so much of it, especially without conscious consent. In all the whirr about keeping his body alive I'm afraid too many of us have forgotten about his spirit. I want you to sit with him. Be there when he wakes up. I know you have basic medical and emergency training, and if you have to, use them. But you're here on special request of David Sarif on my recommendation."

Nora blinked, staring into the room, trying to process. Out of all the things she'd imagined doing, this was certainly not it. "Just—sit with him?" she asked. "Doctor, I don't know how to deal with psychological trauma he should have a therapist, a doctor."

"Nora, why did you write your application essay on veteran augmentation?"

She glanced at Vera, surprised by the question. "Because I think it's the most wonderful part of what this technology lets us do. Healing has an entirely new meaning now. I liked to see people get their lives back."

"That's why I want you, not a therapist. Jensen may see a therapist when he wakes up if he desires one, but I think he's had too much tampering from doctors he didn't authorize already. He just needs another person in there with him, someone to help him process. You understand the science but you care about the people. David knows Adam better than anyone, and he thinks you can help. David would be here himself if he could, but after the nature of the attack he can hardly risk being in the same building as our only viable witness."

"I don't know what to do," Nora said weakly, gripping the sill of the window and staring in at her new ward. Vera hadn't exactly given her a choice, but Nora wasn't sure she wanted one. Being faced with the ugly, painful side of augmentation was jarring, but overpowering that was her compassion for him. The white and silver of the room only enhanced the alienation of his environment, and she felt a spear of pity.

"Just be with him. Read to him, if you like. When he wakes up try talking to him. He isn't as hard as his profile makes him sound. You'll sleep in the room next to his, and you'll shower in the adjacent clean room. Your meals will be brought in with his, though he won't be receiving solid food for another few days at least. If you need to contact anyone you may not do so inside this building and you may not speak about any of this with them. I am sorry to do this to you, but we simply have no-one left. Jensen, he's important."

Nora glanced at Vera, and thought she saw something like guilt in the doctor's eyes. She took a deep breath, turning her gaze on Jensen, trying to calm the clash of emotions in her chest. "Okay." She nodded. "I'll try."


	2. The Little Things

Thank you to everyone who followed this story-reviews are always appreciated as well, let me know what you think! Enjoy this chapter.

* * *

The room she was to stay in linked with Adam's. It was little more than a bed and chest for clothing, and an optional monitoring screen flicked Adam's vitals across the wall where she could see them easily from the bed. It was an observation suite, clearly just vacated by the surgeon who'd been overseeing Jensen's augments. She turned the sound off on the monitor but left the data up, watching the yellow line of Adam's cardiac activity split the dark with every jagged beat. She was feeling suddenly nervous, too wired from the strange experience to sleep even though it was approaching three am. Eventually, she drew a breath, closed her eyes, straightened her spine, and went into the next room.

The suite was all white and silver and precise edges, but the harshness was softened by a low, almost natural-looking gold light. The bulbs provided enough to see clearly, but were of a wavelength that was particularly easy on the eyes. She glanced at the bandages covering Adam's eyes and swallowed, picking up his medical pad. They were gearing up to take the bandages off today, which was why the lights had been implemented. If Adam woke up the last thing they wanted was to damage the healing retinas with harsh light.

The room was jacked up warmer than normal, and the air was sterile. Nora had had to pass through a sterilizing field and change into the soft white of surgeon's scrubs before she'd been allowed in. She folded her hands in front of her, walking with pounding heart to the foot of Adam's bed. She swallowed, trying to keep her focus on his slack face, but her eyes kept diverting away to the raw marks just beginning to heal flesh around metal.

The arms were particularly distracting. She inched closer until she was standing at his left side, lowering herself into a chair as though afraid of waking him. She leaned forward and held her breath, her fingers tingly with the desire to run them along the shark-line edges of his prosthesis. She'd handled and even helped machine many such parts in the factory, but seldom did she see such high grade material let alone witness it attached to a patient. She hesitated, glancing up at the screen above his head displaying all of his vital and augmentation data. They hadn't yet switched on the touch sensors in his arms, so if she was very gentle and didn't jar any part of his shoulder she could touch him and he wouldn't even feel it. She bit her lip, and glanced up at the back of the guard's helmets. They didn't turn, didn't seem concerned with or about her at all. They really did trust her.

Slowly, she reached forward and ran just the tips of her fingers alone one of the fuel lines. The weaving was cold and flexed with her touch, a rotator at the joint allowing the tube to twist without restricting any flow—just like a human artery. She let out a breath in an astonished, quiet laugh, overcome with what she was seeing. Feeling bolder, she traced the alloyed metal of the arm's skeleton, gingerly moving her fingers along the exposed wire-gum tendons that would operate his new fingers. Slowly, very carefully, she turned his hand over, astonished with the flexible fluidity of the artificial joint. The palm was one she'd never seen before, the pads of the fingers catching her own with a light static and textural cling.

She glanced up at his diagnostic screen where the details of his touch sensors were displayed. He had as many sensors in his artificial fingertips as he'd had in his organic ones, with several more laying optionally dormant for when he might need them. She blinked. Robotics were good, but she'd never seen them _that_ good. In addition they'd placed secondary sensors in almost every hose and maintenance port along the arm and actuator muscle, meaning that when the coverings were installed and the arm complete Jensen would be able to feel the artificial muscle seize up with movement almost the same way he'd been able to feel his organic muscles before. It was no wonder they had his touch sensors turned off—the way the arm was right then was equivalent to an organic arm without skin. While the touch wouldn't hurt without actual damage to the inner structure of the arm, it would create a neurological overload of sensation that someone in his state would not handle well.

She looked up at his face, her hand covering his own without really being conscious of the comfort she was trying to accomplish. They'd given him the absolute best Sarif or anyone had to offer, and yet she knew the dysphoria he would experience from waking up in a body so different would be catastrophic. Especially with the head and diagnostic augments. She skimmed down the list of the work that had been done on him and wondered if he would ever be able to adjust. He'd gone from nothing to everything overnight. The HUD would be a jarring learning curve all by itself. When he woke up at least his vision would be normal; they wouldn't turn on the HUD until he'd been informed about it and had a chance to realize what had happened to him.

His ID was displayed in the corner of the data display, the image an old photo probably from the file when he was first hired. He had a hard gaze and locked jaw, his angular bone structure giving him a harsh, predatory appearance. She glanced from his ID to his face, taking note of the way the trimmed beard he normally wore had gotten scraggly and rough in three weeks. Clearly keeping up his appearance hadn't been a priority. She leaned forward and ran her fingers hesitantly through his hair, avoiding the reconstruction stamp they'd placed in the left of his forehead. His hair was greasy. They had kept him sterile, probably used dusting powder to keep his hair manageable, but a proper shampoo hadn't happened in far too long.

She frowned, looking around for any evidence of a basin or other portable cleaning station. There was none. There was, however, a duffle bag on the floor and she leaned forward, unzipping it. Inside were a few Ebooks, a photo album, and a blanket and pillow that did not even remotely match the hospital décor. All things from his apartment, probably brought in to be used as memory tests when he woke up. She leaned forward, pulling out the pillow and, with only mild embarrassment, buried her nose in it and inhaled. A semi familiar scent came off of it and she closed her eyes, trying to place it. The name suddenly clicked and she put the pillow back, getting up and going to the wall where she could comm the guards without compromising the sterile field.

A sharp hiss of static and a click prefaced the line being open. "Is there a problem, miss?"

"Yes, I need a basin, a razor, some shaving cream, a few towels, and a bottle of Phoenix shampoo. You know, the kind made by Axe."

The guard hesitated, and though she couldn't see his eyes through his helmet she could tell he was surprised. "….why?"

"Because the file says a doctor will be in here at 1100 hours today to remove Mr. Jensen's eye bandages, which means we are expecting him to wake sometime soon. He's been through a lot of changes, and it's not going to help him at all if he wakes up with greasy hair and an unkempt beard."

"Miss, I can't let you have a razor or any other unauthorized equipment around the pati-"

"David Sarif asked for me specifically," Nora said, cutting him off. "Which means he trusts me. If I wanted to kill Jensen I could pull his augmentation dampers off and he'd be dead of shock before any of you knew what happened. A razor is not going to be a danger. The shampoo is a common courtesy paid to any patient, and the grafts in his skull repair are completely sealed so there's no chance of infecting the wound."

The guard shifted on his feet slightly, glancing uncertainly towards his co-worker. The other guard shrugged. "I'll go see what I can do."

"Thank you."

Nora returned to Jensen's side and began carefully re-threading and tying back wires and tubes that couldn't afford to get wet. She typed instructions into the bed's programming and it slowly lay back so that Jensen was lying completely flat. She kept one eye on his vitals as she worked, but nothing changed. His file said he didn't have any upper spinal damage, so she programmed the bed to move away from the wall a little and set up a stool behind him, normally reserved for the surgeon.

A half-hour later and a bag with what she'd requested passed through the sterile field. She took the items and filled the basin with warm water. Returning to the space she'd made behind his head she ducked under the wires and made one more glance at his vitals before settling in. Transferring his ID to her pocket secretary, she propped the little screen up against his metal shoulder so she could see what he normally looked like.

Very gently, she lifted his head with one hand, slipping and smoothing out a towel under it with the other. She lay his head back down and scooted forward so she was bent comfortably over him, letting her eyes adjust before she dispensed some of the shaving cream into her hand and spread it over his jaw and around his mouth. He didn't react at all. At first she was surprised and a little concerned, but then a glance at the drip still half-full told her they were keeping him under until at least 1400 hours or later that day.

She proceeded a little more easily, assured that he wouldn't wake and feel violated by her ministrations. Very gently she turned the razor in her hand, double checked from his photo, and began. It took her almost forty-five minutes, but she was in no hurry. Her only concern was that she didn't cut him and she got it right. She was constantly double-checking with his ID, getting up every few minutes to look at him head-on and compare. When she finally finished she gently washed the remaining foam from his face with a warm washcloth, careful not to get it in his mouth or nose. His skin was warm as she brushed her thumb along his smooth cheekbone, wiping away the last traces of cream.

That done, she tucked an extra towel around his neck and triple-checked his bandages to make sure nothing would be compromised by the strong shampoo and water. Everything was intact so she re-filled the basin and adjusted the bed so there was nothing underneath Jensen's skull but her knees. Very carefully she wet his hair, running her fingers soothingly along the curve of his skull, washing away traces of blood the nurse had missed after his cranial procedure.

His hair became pitch black when wet, and as she hummed to him she thought about how it was good she hadn't met him until now. Had she met him as Adam Jensen Chief of Security, she probably wouldn't have been able to look him in the eye, afraid that he would see some breach in contract that she wasn't even aware of. It would have made caring form him borderline impossible. Seeing him as just Adam, as someone who needed her, made him approachable. Like a wolf with a bleeding limb.

After she'd spent several minutes running her fingers along his scalp, she cracked open the bottle and poured the blue gel into her palm. Carefully, avoiding the patch in his skull where they'd had to re-build the damage done by the bullet, she began working the shampoo into his hair, a pleasantly-smelling white lather squishing up between her fingers.

She continued to hum to herself as she shifted his head in her hands, very careful not to jolt him or strain his neck as she worked. She took her time, burrowing her fingers into the texture of his hair, tracing invisible nerve paths she knew would be relaxing if he'd been awake. Even without him conscious to feel it the ministrations seemed to be doing some good—his heartrate had dropped and the patterns his brain was emitting were calmer.

Pulling another towel to her she padded the edge of the basin and let him rest his neck on it, dipping her hands into the water and cupping the warm liquid over his hairline, careful to shield his eyes. Gradually she washed all of the soap out and then proceeded to cradle his head in a towel, drying as best she could. When everything was finished she combed his hair back from his forehead with her fingers so that it mimicked his ID, somewhat amused by the fact that it stayed that way without gel. By time time she re adjusted the bed and had everything put away it was almost six, and a nurse was coming in to check on him and change his IV drip. Nora gave her a small smile and ducked out of the room, feeling incredibly tired suddenly. She took a quick shower, set an alarm on her pocket secretary, and fell asleep.

* * *

In my head Adam smells like Axe. He just does. He's practical but he's also classy, and who knows, maybe Megan liked it. (Yes, I think Axe used within reason is classy, don't judge.)


	3. The Conversation

When she woke up there was a plate of food on the chest of drawers by her head. She glanced at the clock. 11:30 am. The nurse had probably already been in and out to change Jensen's bandages. Taking the food with her Nora went back in the room, sitting at his bedside and balancing her plate on her knees.

The bandages were new, though there were less over-all. Patches of guaze still covered the screw ports responsible for some of his chest reconstruction, and his abdomen was heavily bandaged, but she could see more of his chest and his eyes were uncovered. Around his eyes, tracing the most prominent part of each zygomatic bone were black metal implants. She couldn't tell what they were supposed to be for and she'd never seen ocular implants that went beyond the eye itself. They added to his angular appearance but she could glean no information from his data pad that told her what they did. Perhaps they were one part of the augments Vera hadn't been able to discuss. Whatever they were for, the flesh around them looked like it had only just healed, parts of it still pink and tender or bearing scabbing.

She sat with him in silence for a while, eating and considering what she should do next. His IV told her he'd be under for another few hours at least, so she finished her food and went back into his bag. She pulled out the first eBook she found and began reading out loud, the strange cadence of her voice in the empty space distracting her more than she felt it was helping him.

After a while she got up and stretched, glancing from him to his bag of sedatives. Another half hour at least before he woke. Checking the time again she grabbed her comm and went outside. The afternoon was foggy, a misty rain doing little to clear the polluted air from Detroit's skies. She'd left the building to call her mother but standing outside in the open again reminded her that she had a job as well. She'd completely forgot in all the rush. She didn't want to lose the work, but she had no idea how long she was going to be gone and right then she didn't feel she had the option of walking away. They'd already trusted her with Adam's location and the guard by the door clearly had his eyes on her, waiting for her to finish and return to the building. She didn't think they'd let her leave. Trying to steady her nerves and her lie, she dialed the pharmacy.

By the time she finished her calls and got back inside the drugs used to keep Adam under had run out and the bag had been replaced by a fresh saline drip. The lack of chemical barrier made her suddenly nervous. What was she going to say to him? Was she expected to be the first person to speak with him when he woke up? Adrenaline heated her blood as she wondered if she would have to try and explain what happened. _She_ didn't know what happened, how was she supposed to help a trauma survivor? She sat back at his bedside, rubbing her damp palms against her new scrubs, thinking desperately about what to do. She still hadn't come up with anything when his vitals spiked and he turned his head, his first voluntary movement since she'd met him. She started and leaned forward, taking his sensorless hand in hers as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Jensen? Mr. Jensen?" she said, watching as his eyes, a light green-grey, tried to focus. He blinked a few times, turning his head slowly towards her. At first there was no expression, only the flash of light behind his retinas as his new software helped focus what was left of his organic eye.

"Who are you?"

That was not the first question Nora had been expecting, but it was a relief. His eyes were focusing on her with the light of intelligence behind them, which meant he would not be panicking any time soon and he probably knew where he was. She'd nearly forgotten he'd been there for a few weeks already. Someone must have told him what happened, verified he didn't have dangerous brain damage that would make him unstable or aggressive. At least, she hoped they had. Not that he could do much to her without full control of his arms; he'd hurt himself more than he'd hurt her.

She cleared her throat, taking her hand off of his in a moment of self-consciousness. "I'm Nora."

"You're not a doctor."

It wasn't a question. Intelligent and observant. No wonder he was head of security. "No, I'm…" she huffed out an almost-laugh. "I'm an intern."

He raised an eyebrow. She was going to say more but three nurses and Vera came suddenly into the room. Vera nodded to Nora to signal her to step back for the moment and she complied. The nurses checked all of Jensen's reflexes, asked him a few basic questions and made modifications to his augments before letting Vera take her turn. She sat and talked quietly with Jensen for a good ten minutes, her head bowed near to his, her hand going to clasp his metal one at one point. Their voices were a low buzz together, his a raspy timber, hers a gentle, softer sound. After a time she nodded, placed a gentle hand on his ribs where he could feel it without pain, and got up. Nora stopped her on her way out, moving to where she hoped Jensen couldn't hear them.

"How much does he know?"

Vera glanced back at Jensen, who was sitting back, his eyes unfocused and staring ahead. "Enough. He remembers the attack, he knows most of what's been done to him, but he hasn't seen his reflection yet and this is the first time he's been completely coherent, aside from the pain medication he's on. This is the first time he's had his sight fully back since the attack as well, so I wanted to perform a final check before reporting back to David. You won't need to explain things to him, you merely need to be a distraction for him." She placed her hand on Nora's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly before exiting the room.

Nora turned slowly around and approached the bed again. Jensen flicked his gaze to her once and then returned to staring ahead, as though he only wished to catalogue her presence and then ignore it.

"May I sit with you?" she asked finally, her voice wavering only slightly.

He looked at her and nodded once.

Once seated she really didn't know what to do. Reading to him again felt patronizing. Asking about what happened was downright insensitive. Inspecting his augments was beyond out of the question. She tried not to chew her lip.

"What were you interning?"

She was surprised by the question, but grateful for the way it broke through her internal chaos. "Um, engineering. Development. I was supposed to finish with a three-month block of working with…patients."

He nodded, leaning back and turning to look at her. "Is that why you're here?"

"Yes—and no. I mean, I'm not sure. I'm here to keep you company I guess—I didn't ask to be here if that's what you mean I didn't even know anyone survived-" she cut herself off, mortified with how badly she'd butchered everything she had tried to say.

Jensen's mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile but couldn't. He looked down at his hand and flexed tendons he couldn't feel, clenching black fingers. "I don't know if anyone did," he said softly.

Nora felt a pang in her chest and she tried to re-direct. "Do you want any water? I know you haven't had solid food in a while but water might help, if—if you want to keep talking."

He nodded and she quickly got up and filled a glass, bringing it back to his bedside. She went to hold it out to him and then hesitated. "Have you-"

"No." He glanced up at her. "I can move them but I can't feel them. I don't want to risk breaking the glass-you're going to have to help me."

She nodded and gently brought the glass to his lips, helping him drink with as much dignity as she could. His fingers twitched against the sheets, as though frustrated that they couldn't help.

When he was finished she set the glass on a tray and folded her legs beneath her, propping her elbows on them. "I can see about activating some of your sensors—if you want me to. Just ten percent of them, so you can get used to the feeling."

"Not yet." He shifted slightly and she noticed the barest flicker of unsettled discomfort cross his face as part of his mechanical bicep touched the living flesh lacing his ribs.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, brow creased. "I can get a nurse-"

"I'm fine. Why Sarif?"

It took her a moment to understand he was re-directing. "Because a ticket to China was out of my price range?"

He actually smiled at that, and though it was small she considered it an accomplishment.

"I've always been good with robotics but loved biology—the augmentation business was kind of perfect." She shrugged. "Cause and effect makes sense to me. Biology is where we learn what causes and what effects, and robotics is where we get to re-invent that. Why Sarif for you, if I can ask?"

"It was work. I used to be SWAT, but we had a…falling out."

"Oh," she ducked her head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't regret it."

"No?"

"I wasn't the one in the wrong. I'd rather work private security than public dishonesty."

His answer caught her off guard and she could tell by his expression that he knew it.

"Nora Caria, is that your full name?"

Both eyebrows jumped at that but she nodded. "Yes, it is."

He nodded curtly, shifting a little to settle his shoulders more solidly against the pillows. "I reviewed your file, did the background check. Never thought we'd meet in person. Usually once David approves my choices they filter off into Sarif's pipeline and I only ever see them in passing on my rounds."

"I'm surprised you remember me."

"I have an eidetic memory."

"Wow, that must be handy," she said, with a little jealousy. "I had to study for hours before tests in college and still usually didn't get the score I wanted. Even just remembering my apartment code can be a struggle some nights when I'm tired."

"5462."

She stared at him, and another twitching smile eased his features for a moment.

"Sarif keeps tabs on everyone, I updated your file when you moved last year."

"Wow I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Don't worry, Sarif pays me enough that selling apartment codes isn't worth it."

She laughed, shaking her head. She really hadn't expected him to crack a joke.


	4. The Observation

Three days from Adam regaining consciousness they were working with him to eat solid food again and had turned on twenty percent of his sensors. A LIMB technician came in one afternoon with the finalizing plates for Adam's arms—a mix of armored covers and flexible connective mesh. When he was finished Adam lifted the dominant limb as the door closed, turning his hand and forearm back and forth to watch the way the light slid along new curves. Nora couldn't read his expression very well but he seemed detached. She wondered if that was the only way he could process.

"You feel okay?" she asked, returning from a shower, her braided hair still wet. He rest his arm at his side again, but Nora noticed that he held it away from his body at an unnatural angle, ensuring the new plating bulking up his bicep didn't touch his skin.

"I'm in working order. At least I can hold my own glass now."

That night Nora couldn't sleep. She kept dreaming about the news feed, about the fires at Sarif, about the bloody inflammation of rejected augments she'd studied when she was beginning her degree. She woke up in a jittery state of mind, wondering how many of her dreams had been her own misgivings and how many had been her sympathizing too much with Adam. A glance at his vitals told her he was asleep, but she went in anyway, padding across the darkened room as silently as she could.

He was laying on his back, which wasn't unusual considering how much healing his body had to do, but there was still something weird about how he was positioned. She walked around to the side of the bed trying to place it when he shifted slightly and jerked away almost at the same time. She frowned hard and looked up at his vitals, but he wasn't exhibiting any more pain symptoms than he'd been before.

She inched closer, searching for clues. Her hand brushed the cold metal of the cabinet handle next to her and suddenly it made sense. Adam's prosthesis were cold, his body was warm, and he hated how one felt against the other. It was a constant clash, a constant reminder that he'd lost half of his limbs overnight. He was still sleeping so she didn't attempt to fix the problem just yet, but knowing it bothered him that much sent her mind into puzzle solving overdrive. Picking up a spare data pad, she sat next to him and began typing out notes, flicking through the specs for his arms as she went. Once in a while he'd shift again and she'd glance up, but he remained in that strained, shoulder hunched position that kept his arms from touching his sides.

Buried in specs and renderings and calculations she completely lost track of time. The only thing that pulled her out of her focus was the sudden hiss of the sterile chamber opening to admit the morning nurse, there with food for both of them. She looked up, re-focusing her thoughts so she could acknowledge more than the whirring in her brain.

"Working hard?" the nurse whispered, though the patterns of the brain scan indicated Adam was aware, just resting.

"Yeah, I got an idea. Can you machine parts here or do you have to have them shipped in from Sarif?"

The nurse set both trays next to Nora and frowned, thinking. "It depends on what you need—have you observed complications or rejection?" she asked, glancing at Jensen, who was still feigning sleep.

"No, no, nothing like that," Nora waved a hand, reaching for her tray. "I just think I may have found a way to increase efficiency and improve the comfort of the design at the same time. I need conducting mesh and the tools to remove and disassemble the outer layer of any limb prosthesis."

"Well, I'll speak with Doctor Vera," the nurse said, her expression skeptical. "But I wouldn't get your hopes up."

When the nurse left Jensen opened his eyes, his brow furrowing as his gaze glinted with re-focus. "What do you want to do with all that?"

Nora scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal and shrugged. "I just noticed an excess energy output and thought of a way to disperse it."

Adam raised an eyebrow and continued to stare at her, clearly not buying any of it. She pointedly continued eating until his gaze finally left her and the sounds of his metal fingers carefully grasping his own tray signaled his decision to let the matter slide, at least for the moment.

After they both finished eating Nora took their trays out into the hall for an excuse to leave the room. She wanted to call her mother but thought better of it, realizing that even if calling outside was safe she shouldn't risk any kind of repeated sighting at the location. Instead, she went down the hall to Vera's office, where the doctor was spending a rare few hours at the location to update Jensen's files. Nora knocked on the door and received a "come in", so she clicked the handle and ducked inside. What she had not been expecting to see was David Sarif there as well.

Well, not _there_ there, but he was on the computer, video linking in from his penthouse.

"Nora, I've been hearing lots about you. How is Adam doing?"

Nora pulled up short, surprised to be talking to the head of Sarif like this, even if it wasn't actually face to face. "I—he's recovering well. He's healing a lot faster than I would have expected and he's talking to me, so things can't be that bad, right?"

"No, I suppose not. But Vera was just filling me in on the supplies you wanted, so there's something else going on. Are our multi-million dollar prosthesis designs not good enough for you?" he asked, his voice teasing.

She laughed a little, shaking her head and crossing her arms to help focus herself away from her nerves. "No sir, of course not. I just—I'm no psychologist by any stretch of the imagination but I think Adam's having a hard time adjusting to his augments, especially his arms. And not in the way people normally suffer dysphoria."

Sarif shifted, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Go on."

She blew out a breath, wishing she had the data pad she'd been taking notes on in front of her. This felt too much like a school presentation suddenly. "Adam won't let his arms touch any part of his bare flesh if he can possibly help it. When he does accidentally he flinches, almost like he's in pain. But his brain isn't registering spikes in pain, and neither is his heartbeat. It's the cold. He doesn't like the feel of the cold metal against his skin, and he can't keep his arms close enough to the rest of his body long enough to allow them to warm. It's making his sleep harder, not to mention impeding his ability to mentally acclimatize himself to the limbs."

David nodded, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together on the desk, silver crossed with flesh. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, the arms produce heat when used, right? And there are several fuel lines and sensory matrixes near the connection point. I want to place heat diffusing wire mesh just underneath the padding in his mechanical dermal layer. Link that with the actuators and you can diffuse extra heat produced by use of the arm into the "skin", warming it. The secondary implant I want to attach would just piggyback on one of the hoses in the joint, right in the pocket beneath what's left of his brachial artery. The heated blood will send temperature instructions to the wire, and the wire will diffuse the natural heat produced by the energy of his heartbeat accordingly. That way, even when he's not moving, the surface of his arms and hands will feel as warm as living skin, and should match the rest of his body temperature. I think it will help him adjust, and help others he may eventually come in contact with on a more intimate scale." She got so carried away with her explanation that she didn't think about how inappropriate the last words might have been until they were out of her mouth. Biting her lip and hoping the dark office hid her blush, she waited for Sarif to respond.

He had one hand rubbing his chin, his eyes cast aside as he thought. "Nora, have you ever thought about working in the design labs here? Perfecting that could seriously help with overheat problems and eliminate exhaust ports almost completely."

Nora couldn't help herself, she was beaming.

"I'll send the supplies over right away, just have Vera there to help you. She knows the details about Adam's particular model that I can't share with you. Let me know how it goes. I'll check in when I can."

In all of her excitement Nora hadn't thought about breaching the subject with Adam. Caught in the waiting period before the supplies would arrive, she felt suddenly it was her duty to tell him that something _else _was happening to him. If she didn't she knew she would feel like just another cold mechanic treating him like a robot with a molten core rather than a human being with a damaged soul.

"You want to talk to me."

Once again, not a question. She was starting to feel exposed, which she thought was probably evening the playing field for him, at least a little.

"Yeah, I have no poker face, do I?" she said, sitting next to him, reaching for her tablet and swiping through it so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"Not many people do. What's going on?"

"I…I wasn't completely lying before when I said I had an idea to improve efficiency. But-"

"That's not why you came up with it."

"Right." She huffed out a breath, lacing her fingers together. "Look, I just had some ideas to improve the dermal layer of your prosthetics, if that's okay with you. I can explain it to you if you want, but what I really need—well, want—is your permission. I feel like there's been too much done to you already without getting your okay first."

She hadn't looked at him the entire time she'd spoken, but when he didn't respond right away she glanced up to find his focus on her. He was studying her, a whirring of thoughts going on behind his eyes that she didn't think he'd ever actually voice.

"I'm not really into the science thing anyway," he said finally resting his head back against the pillows. "Can you hand me a book?"

Her shoulders relaxed and she took his answer for what it was: permission. She reached down and picked out one of the few paper books they'd dumped in his duffle and handed it to him, along with his pillow from home. His metal fingers closed around the book and pillow with more confidence than they had anything else to date and Nora didn't miss the look of gratitude in his eyes or the way the muscles of his chest relaxed a little when he leaned into the familiar texture and smell of his own things.

When the augmentation specialist returned with the tools they needed, Adam was asleep. Hoping not to wake him, Nora deactivated the sensors in his arms and began personally detaching the dermal plates, exceedingly careful not to torque or damage any of the wires or links. She knew it was incredibly sturdy material, that it would probably take a lot more than her to do damage, but she still felt oddly like she was doing surgery and wanted to take the same respect with it.

When all of the plates were off and placed carefully in soft cloth for transport, Nora hesitated. Doctor Vera was standing at the door, ready to help carry the pieces out, but Nora took one look back at Jensen and changed her mind.

"Can we bring the table in here? We don't need much more than the soldering tool and a diagnostic computer, we can work in here," she said quietly. "It won't wake him."

Vera looked at Nora, then back at Adam, who was once again unconsciously sleeping with his shoulders hunched, keeping his skeletal looking mechanics away from his torso. "You don't want to leave him."

"I don't want to keep hiding from him," Nora said, picking up the last of the plating and moving closer to Vera so she could be sure not to disturb Adam. "I don't know everything that happened, or what all got added to him, but it's pretty clear to me what's been taken away and there's no reason to keep leaving him in the dark about what is going to be his body for the rest of his life. Besides, if we stay in here all we have to sterilize is one more computer and some diagnostic cables—it'll save time."

The doctor raised an eyebrow, but the hint of a smile softened her features and she nodded, gesturing to one of the guards.


	5. The Discovery

Oh gods the amount of techno-babble I've written in this story is stupid. Also, finished the game. That was a ride.

* * *

Nora was sitting comfortably at a metal table near the foot of the bed, the shoulder splay of Jensen's left arm dissected before her with a wire leading to the screen. Once Vera had showed her how to dissect the tech, there was really no reason for her to stay until they tested the equipment prior to returning it to Jensen. Vera had gone back to her apartment to sleep, and Nora had forgotten what sleep felt like. She was hunched over the carefully peeled back layers of projectile resistant fiber and touch sensors, soldering pen in hand as she broke and re-lay wiring centimeter by centimeter. At first she was going to leave the copper conducting layer in its beehive-cell pattern, but as she considered it more carefully a more ambitious design came to her.

On one side of her diagnostic screen scrolled golden lines of data, fed back from his shoulder plate. On the other side splay multiple references for brachial vein and artery patterns. It was painstaking work, but every time she glanced back over what she had accomplished she was struck by how beautiful, how natural it appeared and she pressed on. She'd always enjoyed the work of building the parts in the labs, but the act of laying down metal veins for Jensen was relaxing, satisfying even.

"Your food is getting cold."

She looked up with a start, the metal hissing as she jerked the pen away from it in a rush. Her neck protested violently—she hadn't moved it in hours.

"You're awake."

"Yes, and I've finished reading _Child 44_ for the second time and eaten half of my food since I woke up." He nodded towards her work. "Having fun?"

She colored slightly, staring pointedly down at the network. She'd finished both shoulder plates and most of his second bicep cover, though that was taking her longer because she'd backtracked and begun programming the wiring to emit heat in easy flowing pulses that should match his heartbeat. In addition, she was putting in a secondary layer to his dermal plating that would hold the heat consistently like human skin. The combination gave a quiet, almost living hum of warmth to the once dead metal.

"I don't know if fun is the right word. I'm focused, that's for sure."

"I can tell. You haven't straightened your back in two hours. At least."

"Yeah…" she sighed, straightening up and cracking her back in a series of painful pops. She put the soldering pen back in its rest. Her fingers were cramped up and ached when she tried to straighten them. "Ow, okay I need to pay more attention to what time it is and what's going on outside of my head."

"I can relate. Why don't you take a break, come eat something, maybe show me how to switch some of my own sensors back on. I managed to get fifteen percent running, but there was an override for anything else."

"Oh, gods, I'm sorry," she said, scrambling to get up and input the code for him. "The password is "pinion", if you want to adjust it yourself. It's the code for any of your restrictions that don't need activation by praxis."

"Right, praxis."

Something in his voice gave her pause and she slowly took up her tray, sitting in the chair left always by his bed. He was looking at his hands, flexing the exposed tendons and watching the way they wove and pulled against their anchors.

"We can put the plating back on—I can only work on one piece at a time anyway," she offered, trying to read his expression.

"I guarded the stuff for months, learned enough while I was on the force to deal with augmented assailants, but I never paid much attention to it. I'm starting to feel like I should have."

She sat and folded her hands in her lap, not really bothered that he was avoiding her eyes. She knew it wasn't her he was avoiding. "You couldn't know that this was going to happen," she said gently. "It wasn't your choice to get augmented."

"I signed the contract when Sarif hired me. I should have seen this coming."

"The attack, or the augments?"

He huffed a breath, and she watched his jaw muscles clench. "Both, probably."

Her heart clenched as it clicked. He blamed himself at least in part for how the attack had gone down. "Adam—"

"You can put the plates back when you're finished. Might as well do it all at once."

He still wasn't looking at her and she clenched her fingers on each other, wishing she could help. She got up and went back to work, aware that he was lost to his own demons and keeping tabs on her at the same time.

It took over a week, but eventually every piece of plating for both his arm and leg prosthesis were laced with copper-colored veins. The metal glinted as she turned the final piece against the sealing tool, locking everything in place. Vera had a camera set up part way through the reconstruction process so that they could study and replicate the designs for later use if Jensen's trial was successful.

The day they put Jensen back under to install the sensors in his shoulder joint she left the room and spent a great deal of time outside of the building. Security had relaxed slightly and the outside air was a tonic after spending day and night in a sterilized recovery suite. She'd been offered the chance to scrub in and watch the procedure, but against her greater wishes she chose not to. She would have been lying to say that she didn't want to watch, didn't want to feel a swell of pride as the heat mesh was turned on, but she cared more about how disrespectful that felt towards Adam. He'd been treated like a science project enough. Even though her motivations were to help him feel more comfortable, the actual execution still felt like a clinical trial where he was just a subject, and leaving helped her feel like she was respecting him more as a patient. When she returned later, when he could sleep without straining the organic muscle left in his upper back, that's when she would count it a victory.

"Yeah, I wish I could tell you mom but they aren't even letting me use my own phone to call you."

"I'm just glad you're still safe. After that attack I was worried about your involvement with Sarif period, let alone continued involvement."

"Yeah, I was at first too, but there's work to be done and we can't let terrorists stop that. I'm one of the only ones left who didn't lose my life or some part of my body—I'm upset about the scientists that I used to work with of course, especially Craig and Amber, but some people lost their families. I just can't let them go without support."

"I understand. Just try to call when you can, I love you."

"Love you too mom," Nora said softly, clicking the phone off and feeling a sting of nostalgia. She'd been doing so well living away from home but she hadn't been properly back for a visit almost since the internship began. She and her mother had always been close, especially after her father died. Complications with early augmentation surgeries.

A lot of people didn't understand why she didn't hate augmentation after that, but the implants her father had received had allowed her and her mother three extra weeks to be with him and say goodbye. She was so grateful for that chance that she'd wanted to help improve augmentation since so others could have their loved ones for even longer.

She sighed, wiping away a stray tear that had snuck up on her and checked her pocket secretary. Vera had promised to send her a notification when the surgery was done. It should be a routine procedure, no more than an hour. It had already been forty minutes, so Nora tried not to worry. Everything in Jensen's file said that his body bonded well, almost eagerly with augments. The chance for complications was infinitesimal.

All the same, fifteen minutes later when her pocket secretary pinged she felt overwhelming relief and a touch of excitement. She met Doctor Vera just as she was leaving the room, removing the surgical mask from her face.

"We went in through one of the failsafe ports already in his shoulder so there's no need to keep him under. He should be waking up soon, and then as long as he's up for it you can begin re-attaching his plating. Are you confident you can do it without help?"

"Yes, I believe so unless you've changed the schematics of the understructure."

"Haven't touched a thing," Vera said, walking to her office as Nora strode to catch up. "Just added the heat port that will connect with the plug you installed in each shoulder plate. From there you should be able to just re connect everything like before." She glanced at the clock on her computer. "Excuse me Nora, I have a tight schedule today and I still need to update David on the surgery and send him your video. Let me know when the plates are back, I want to know how he takes it."

Nora nodded and ducked quickly out, pulling the door shut behind her. Turning towards the recovery suite, she went back through the decontamination chamber and changed into a fresh pair of surgical scrubs. It was strange how comfortable she'd found the clothing—going back to normal clothes was going to be weird.

The finished pieces of Jensen's augments were laid out on her work table, the computer and diagnostic equipment neatly placed out of the way. She glanced up at him and let out a breath, picking up the thin screwdriver-like tool that she would need to activate inner latches she couldn't fit her fingers around. A soft beeping indicated a significant change in brainwave activity and she set the tool down, walking quietly over to him.

As he woke up he was flexing his fingers, the pistons making a soft whirring that would be muffled to near silence once she replaced his plating. "Hey Adam, how do you feel?"

His eyes opened and he turned his head, blinking slowly and breathing intentionally, trying to clear his system of the sedative. "Fuzzy. But it's wearing off. I assume you finished?"

"Yeah, with your permission I wanted to re-attach your plating and calibrate the new software. After that you should be completely done, other than activating your HUD and whatever else you choose to activate when you're released."

"Go ahead." He twitched his fingers. "I'm still numb from the surgery so you might as well start now."

"Okay, uh, hang on." She went to the table and took the safety lock off of it, rolling it to where the parts would be within easy reach. She shifted her chair around, the wheels making a quiet grinding noise against the tile floor. She adjusted a lamp near the bed so that it was shining on the new port in his shoulder. Just to be safe she threw the schematics up on the screen and re adjusted the tool in her hand, her mouth going suddenly dry. Adam was watching her when she looked up at him, and he clearly read her hesitation.

"You can't do any more damage, Nora," he said, and his voice was tired.

"Okay, well, tell me if something hurts, okay?"

He nodded and she reached for his shoulder plate, carefully attaching the new wiring. There was a satisfying click and then she settled into the work.

"Where are you from?" she asked, reaching for the bicep wrap and smoothing out the fibers one more time before lifting his arm gently away from the mattress and hooking it in. It had been quiet for several long minutes, and it would be at least another hour of very intimate work before she could give him space again. The least she felt she could do was give him something else to focus on.

He seemed somewhat taken off guard by her question and he glanced at her, his eyes drawn to the work she was doing and then to her face. She glanced up at him. "You don't have to answer of course, I just thought I'd ask. I'm from South Carolina, I moved up here when I got the internship with Sarif. Sometimes I really regret moving to somewhere so cold half of the year."

"I guess it does get cold here. It doesn't bother me as much—I was born in Michigan and haven't really gone to other parts of the country except for when Sarif needed me as personal security. I guess I don't notice temperature as much."

Nora couldn't help thinking of the image of him sleeping stiffly the night before but she pushed it away, calibrating his tricep weave and hooking it into place. "Yeah, I have to say I miss palm trees and having the ocean less than an hour away."

His nose wrinkled a little and he turned his head. "I never much liked the thought of the ocean. Saw it once when I was on a mission with the boss, but it's too unpredictable for my taste."

She raised an eyebrow, making adjustments on his forearm hooks. "And cities wracked with crime aren't?"

"I can predict a riot or a shooting and I know how to react to both. I know the signs. Sure, hurricanes have signs but I have no idea how to read them and even less knowledge on how to respond. Besides, you can't talk down a hurricane."

"I see your point. But then again, hurricanes aren't coming for you because they want you. They're not going to change direction and chase you. With warning I'd feel safer running from a hurricane than from a human."

"Most humans who attack aren't really going for you when they do. They're going after their problems. You just happen to remind them of those problems."

She paused, looking up from her work for a long moment. "I—wow. I never thought of it like that."

"Most people don't. That's when negotiations and tactic go bad."

The phrase seemed loaded the way he delivered it.

"If I can…do you mind me asking what happened that you left the force?"

Adam didn't respond at first. A quiet hiss filled the silence as his forearm infrastructure accepted the modified dermal layer. She turned his hand gently over, leaning forward and adjusting her work light so she could see the tiny contact surfaces she had to employ.

"A kid happened," he said finally, almost when she'd decided that he wasn't going to respond. She sensed he had more to say so she focused on very gently latching in the dozen tiny connectors in his palm.

"He was fifteen. Augmented. Intimidating, sure, but he wasn't the one with a gun. I received orders to shoot him, even though he wasn't moving towards any of us. He had an aggressive stance, but everyone does when they're cornered by six guys in full tactical gear. I refused those orders. The leader of another team took the shot instead. I quit before they could pin insubordination on me for something so clearly backwards. I had to fight the paperwork on my way out just to get the kid's body released to his family for a proper funeral post autopsy."

Nora felt her hands go cold as she listened to Adam talk, and she was grateful that his new circuitry was already generating heat. With each beat of his heart a wave of gentle warmth went through her fingers and then lingered, making the metal comforting rather than harsh.

"I'm so sorry," she said, feeling like there was nothing else to say.

"Me too."

It took nearly three times as long as she'd hoped but several hours after she'd started she was finally locking the final plate onto his body: the forearm protector on his right side. As she hooked it into place and pressed it down he flinched and she startled, putting her hands up.

"I'm sorry—did I hurt you?" she asked, heart in her throat.

He frowned "No—I just…I felt that. I wasn't expecting to feel that. I thought I was still numb."

She frowned, placing a gentle hand on his finished prosthetic and glancing up at his diagnostic screen. "Can you feel that?"

"Yeah…clearly. Almost as clearly as when you touched my skin."

"Well no wonder, your sensors have activated to 85 percent. I didn't do that! The equipment must be malfunctioning, let me run a quick diagnostic. Does everything feel okay?" she asked, rolling away from him to grab the laptop.

He was flexing his fingers, running them across each other, touching his forearm with hesitant fingertips. "Yeah…I feel fine. Just, warmer."

She tried to hide her smile as she bent over the laptop, typing in preliminary commands before setting it on the table next to him and connecting sensor cables to his left arm. She browsed through the gold-font history of the prosthesis' activation history and where the orders came from, and when she found the most recent spike she gaped.

"Adam, you turned the touch sensors on."

His brow furrowed. "No I didn't."

She turned the screen towards him so he could see the command source. "Yes you did. Your brain did. It's interfaced with the chip so soundly that it was reading your diagnostic integrity and decided that you were ready to come almost fully online."

His eyebrows went up and he sat forward, peering at the screen. "Is that supposed to happen?"

"Later, yeah. When you've fully adjusted to the prosthesis the chip is calibrated to read certain chemical levels in your brain and then turn control of the prosthetics over to your subconscious. It's the final wiring route between organic and technological that allows you to use your limbs within the realm of reflex and pre-trained skills. I mean, I'm not saying you'll have full dexterity back yet but this is incredibly fast."

He sat back again, his movements more fluid than she'd seen them since first meeting him. He shifted, the black-wire muscle in his arms cording experimentally as he used them to adjust his spot on the bed. "Is this a good thing?"

"I'll have to ask Doctor Marcovic to look more closely at your healing progress but I think so. For your brain to accept the chip and the sensory input only a little over a month after the surgery is impressive." She turned, typing rapidly on the touchpad. "Your core temperature is normal, and I'm not reading any stressful brain patterns." She reached out, pressing the back of her hand against the side of his neck. "Your skin isn't clammy and your pulse is steady so you're not going into shock." She shook her head. "This is unprecedented."

"Glad to know I'm an anomaly," he muttered.

She flushed, kicking herself over getting so excited. For her this was an amazing thing to witness, for him he was still in pain and he was still stuck in a hospital bed and he still didn't have his old limbs back.

"I'm sorry Adam, I got carried away," she apologized. He glanced at her and nodded briefly.

"Megan used to get that way about a breakthrough too. I understand."

Her throat really closed then, because she hadn't met Megan but she'd been working under her, and it was no secret in the workplace that Megan and Adam had been together for at least a year before the attack. She wasn't sure if they'd been together when Megan had died, but it was painfully obvious that Adam still cared about her.

"I'm going to go take this information to Doctor Marcovic, get her opinion," she said gently, placing what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder, careful to press on flesh more than fiber.


	6. The Epilogue

Vera gave Adam a bill of health cleaner than anyone in his situation had a right to have, and after she left Nora sat with him, eating dinner in companionable silence. He seemed to have forgiven her for her insensitive comment, his mood oddly lighter. She guessed it had something to do with the prediction that he would be released earlier than expected by almost three weeks.

That night she lay awake, watching his numbers tick up and down until they evened out and she was absolutely certain he was asleep. Stealing out of bed as quietly as humanly possible she slipped into his room, having to get closer than before because many of his observation lights had been turned off at night to make it easier to sleep.

When she got close enough to his bed to make him out she grinned. She couldn't help it. He was turned partially on his side, one arm wrapped around the undamaged part of his chest, the other tucked up under his pillow. The tension was gone completely from his shoulders.

Nora spent the rest of his time in the recovery suite with him, partially because David and Vera both thought her presence was helping and partially because it wasn't completely safe for her to leave until he was discharged and they'd done a final sweep on the security systems. At that point, she didn't really want to leave. She'd grown fond of Adam, and enjoyed greatly their lengthening conversations as he healed enough to be awake most of the day.

Three months after his surgery and only about a month and a half after she'd been called in they determined it safe for Adam to go home. He would still need to work at physical therapy and be checked in on often, but the principle healing was done and he was well out of the woods. Nora packed up her things with a bittersweet feeling in her stomach, happy for him but feeling weird about going back to her life. Well, going back in part. After she realized how long she would be there with him she called the pharmacy and quit, all but guaranteed a job on Sarif's new team once Adam was out.

Though she'd seen him stand several times in the past month for various physical therapy sessions, it was still almost shocking to see him dressed in a t-shirt and loose cargo pants, his duffle slung over his shoulder.

"I hope to see you back around Sarif soon," she said, holding out a hand towards him.

He hesitated, shifting the bag before reaching out and clasping her hand, his grip overly gentle, his movements stiff and uncertain. The warmth of his fingers traveled all the way to her chest.

She'd been at her new job for three months when she saw him again. She was on her break, eating somewhat messily over her data pad as she reviewed processing specs. She was sitting on the bench near the front desk, enjoying the open space that smelled like something besides lab chemicals and soldering copper. A tall figure caught the corner of her eye and she looked up, shocked to see Jensen standing in front of the sliding doors.

He was standing at his full height, his shoulders held back naturally, no longer pulled forward by the weight of prosthetics he was unaccustomed to. Underneath his coat and vest his form had filled out with healthy new muscle, and the flick of his HUD sunglasses extending over his eyes was as natural as blinking. When he continued on into the lobby, talking with Sarif over his implanted comm, his stride was sure and lithe, his gestures comfortable, and his voice strong. When he paused by the steps to speak with an elderly worker who appeared overjoyed to have him back, he clasped her hand with confidence and ease, his black fingers glinting as they folded the older woman's hand between both of his own.

Nora smiled and returned to her calibrations.


End file.
